


Trifecta

by silversundown



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 12:52:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14593428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silversundown/pseuds/silversundown
Summary: A couple glasses of wine, the safety of the CDC...and the end of the world. It's the perfect recipe for Carol and Daryl to take a risk.





	Trifecta

Carol can still feel the wine from dinner.  
  
It warms her stomach and heats her chest, flushing out over her skin and giving it a pleasant tingle.  
  
She hasn’t had wine since before the turn. Hardly had much then either because Ed preferred beer and whiskey and any money she might have spent on a cheap bottle of dessert wine would have earned her a black eye or worse.  
  
On the rare occasions she did have some…she liked it, but she was a lightweight then and now is no different. She only had two glasses at dinner though so instead of being drunk she only feels comfortable and loose.  
  
The world may be ending but right now, in this moment, everything is just fine.  
  
Especially because the CDC is more of a blessing than they could have dreamed of. Hot water, food and soft beds to sleep in. It’s almost too good to be true and she half expects to blink and be back outside with the dead chasing her and a hungry growl in her belly.  
  
She’d tucked Sophia in earlier, freshly washed and snug under the covers and it had almost felt normal. Safe. She shakes her head on her way down the hall. Nothing is safe anymore, not even here.  
  
She could certainly use some sleep herself, almost laid down right then and there and let the wine do it’s job of pulling her eyelids shut, but it’s done more than chase away her stress….it’s also made her imagination run wild.  
  
Rather than lay in bed with a whole host of dirty thoughts running through her mind like a movie, she decided to head back to the kitchen in search of something to calm her down, maybe a cup of tea or coffee or anything to dilute the alcohol that’s reminding her she hasn’t had an orgasm in what seems like forever.  
  
She doesn’t make it half way down the hall before the sight of Daryl in his room stops her in her tracks. The door is open just a crack and the light from the hall illuminates him in a soft glow as he putters around in there, settling in after the shower she can still see wetting his skin.  
  
Her eyes follow the last few droplets of water that runs down his arms and her tongue snakes out to wet her lips, a sudden tug in her lower belly catching her by surprise.  
  
Her mouth falls open just a fraction and her feet feel rooted to their spot, forcing her to stand there and stare at this man she hardly knows, who just happens to be the object of all those naughty fantasies she’d been indulging in just a moment ago.  
  
His biceps flex and glisten while he digs around in a bag on the bed and if she didn’t know better she’d be certain he was doing it on purpose to tease her.  
  
But she does know better and he’s not even remotely aware of her presence let alone attempting to lure her inside.  
  
For someone that seems alert at all times he’s succumbed to the safety of these walls just like the rest of them. Letting his guard down just enough to miss her light footsteps approaching.  
  
They haven’t said much to each other since he’d handed her that axe, but she doesn’t think he’s the type to sling a pick up line her way in the first place.  
  
He seems to guard his personal space quite fiercely. Doesn’t let anyone stand too close, never reaches out to touch or gets too involved, preferring to stay on the outskirts of the group while he watches over it, though he may deny even that.  
  
She’s noticed though. It’s hard not to when she and Sophia are often the target of his watchful eye. Not that she minds, she doesn't. In fact, it makes her feel just a little safer, which may as well be a miracle in itself.  
  
She watches him sit down at the end of the bed, his head in his hands and his back lifting with a long breath and she’s about to leave because she feels like a voyeur invading his privacy but the moment she moves the floor creaks with her weight.  
  
“Hey, somethin’ wrong? Somethin’ happen?”  
  
He’s up and off the bed in an instant, worried that she came to find him for a specific reason and she feels even guiltier now. If he only knew what she’d been thinking a moment ago. How she wouldn’t mind grazing her fingertips over those muscles in his arms or letting him wrap them around her and pull her close.  
  
“No, everything’s fine. I was just heading to the kitchen.” She says. The words come out shy, like she’s been caught in the act of something awful when she’d been doing nothing of the sort.  
  
Instead of moving away and turning back down the hall she catches a new scent and her mind chooses that moment to do something entirely ridiculous and uncalled for, allowing a comment to escape her mouth that she should have wrangled back in.  
  
“You smell good. Different….like whatever you used in the shower.” Her skin heats up immediately, a flush creeping up her neck and toward her cheeks, making her look away from him and off to the side.  
  
What the hell is she thinking? Telling Daryl he smells good when he’s standing there in a sleeveless shirt, damp and clean and more touchable that she’s ever seen him, is the worst idea she’s had.  
  
Not to mention that all this new found bravery is only wine induced and she knows it.  
  
That isn’t her. Might have been at one time, before she met Ed and flirting and teasing was a regular thing, but that woman is long gone now and she’s a fool to assume that digging her back up would be easy.  
  
Daryl stares at her for a moment, confused, then snorts out a half laugh like all of this is quite funny and she thinks she might melt right into the ground.  
  
“Ya sayin’ I smelled like shit before? Thanks. You weren’t a bed of roses yourself.”  
  
His eyes twinkle with hidden mischief even as shyness plays in the background. He’s trying to tease her, to have a conversation when all he’s really used to doing is scowling and grunting and cursing a blue streak and her heart warms just a little at the effort.  
  
Some of her embarrassment ebbs away, just enough make her fake offense and play along. “I always smell like flowers, thank you very much.”  
  
“Nah, not right now. Right now you got a….” he pauses, leans forward to sniff the air by her neck. A move he does without thinking because it’s far too quick to be calculated but the tiny hairs on her skin stand on end and she has to hold in a shiver. “…a strawberry thing going on now. Yeah, definitely strawberries. It’s nice.”  
  
“Oh.” She says softly, her teeth snagging on her lower lip and her eyes roaming toward his without her consent. He’s still close from having sniffed her, hasn’t really leaned as far back as he could and so she has a nice view of that lower lip she wouldn’t mind snagging between her own. Can see his throat bob when he swallows hard, having realized himself just how close they are.  
  
Tension coils deep and low in her belly at the thought of how he might taste on her tongue.  
  
Fuck it, she thinks to herself. Maybe she should be reckless this one time and see what comes of it. They could all be dead tomorrow, after all…  
  
“Can I come in?”  
  
She practically blurts out the question, having to steel her courage and run with the idea before she talks herself out of it and he winces in confusion, tilting his head to the side like he’s trying to figure her out. One hand holds tight to the door frame and the other on the knob, blocking her way.  
  
She instantly wants to take it back. Shakes her head and mumbles an apology, turning to head for the kitchen where she should have gone in the first place instead of getting so distracted.  
  
She can’t even blame the wine for this, not really. She got herself into this awkward mess by being sexually frustrated and half tipsy and not smart enough to take care if it in the shower earlier. It would have been so easy to slip her fingers down between her legs and imagine it was him….she wouldn’t have lasted a minute.  
  
“Wait.” He says, just as she’s taking a step to go. His hand catches her elbow in a loose hold, light and fleeting and dropping away again the moment he makes contact. “This some kinda end of the world thing? Wanna get one last bang in before we all bite it?”  
  
He doesn’t seem upset or offended. Just confused…and a little crass… but not entirely opposed to the idea either. The fact that he stopped her instead of watching her leave proves as much.  
  
She’s not sure how to respond, can’t really believe he came right out and said it like that…but he’s not exactly wrong either.  
  
“Um…kinda…maybe?” She stammers out, feeling unsure about this entire line of thought.  
  
Still, excitement shimmers in her veins at the idea of this being a real possibility.  
  
It hadn’t been that long ago that Ed was yelling in her ear how no one else would ever want her. That she was ugly, plain, useless, nothing but a burden. That Daryl might want to take her into his bed just this once is something she’s afraid to hope for.  
  
Maybe she sounded a little too serious then, too game for whatever this is about to be because he frowns, looking at her like she’s grown seven heads, giving her a long, curious stare before finally moving back from the doorframe and giving her access to his room.  
  
She doesn’t step inside right away, this still feels like it might be a trick and a second from now he’ll laugh in her face and shove her back out the door again.  
  
She has to fight those fears and remind herself that he’s never given her a reason to assume he gets off on humiliating women. Not all men are that way, even if most of her experiences are wrapped up with someone who was.  
  
He seems just as unsure as she is, shifting his weight on his feet, ready to take back his invitation the moment she makes him feel unwanted. So she takes one step forward and then another and soon she’s inside his room while the door softly clicks closed behind them.  
  
“You sure about this?” He asks her, serious and a little surprised.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
He still seems slightly shocked, like he’s not sure why she’d want to be here with him at all and she wonders just how similar his fears might be to her own.  
  
“Ain’t got no condoms. Wasn’t exactly planning on….this.” He says matter of factly.  
  
“My tubes are tied.” She blurts out, like talking about any of this so openly is completely normal and the very thought makes her huff out a little laugh.  
  
Then he’s laughing too, more subdued than hers but it’s there none the less. Ducking his head a fraction and looking up at her with soft eyes.  
  
That look, sweet and gentle and so far from what he lets everyone else see makes her think he might be the first man to touch her softly instead of with a hard hand.  
  
Now that they’re on the same page and agreeing to give this a shot neither one of them seems to know how to move forward and they stand in the middle of the room like teenagers about to pop their cherries for the first time.  
  
She suddenly feels like these clothes she put on were the wrong choice. The fabric is thick and heavy and not sexy at all. The tank top and shorts from her bag would have been a better idea, but then again all she had in mind tonight was tea and sleep…not getting naked with Daryl Dixon.  
  
“You wanna…” He motions toward the bed, taking a few steps into her space until she can smell the shampoo on his hair and see the veins in his biceps, feeling his warm breath on her skin on a particularly long exhale.  
  
“No. Not like that….not there.” She says quickly, not willing to explain that every other time she’s had sex in a bed _it hurt_. That she rarely left without crying and on the days she didn’t shed a tear it was only because she felt numb.  
  
The bed will only bring up bad memories but she can’t tell him that, not now, maybe not ever. They hardly know each other well enough for those kind of truths but she still wants this, bad enough that she’s willing to push through these fears and make it happen.  
  
He gives her a nod, not pressing further about why, just leaning in a little closer until she can feel his nose nudge hers and his lips ghost against her mouth. Soft and easy and so quick that she follows them when he backs away, slides a hand up around his neck and pulls him in lightly for a proper kiss. A bit harder, more demanding but still quiet enough not to spook him. Judging by the way his heart is pounding against her other hand, that might be a possibility.  
  
He feels like a skittish deer ready to bolt and she isn’t sure she’s brave enough to chase him.  
  
Once they’ve crossed the line it feels like a damn has been broken and they go from shy and tentative to eager and quick in a matter of a seconds. His hands slide up under her top to trace over her spine and she fumbles at his belt buckle with a frustrated huff.  
  
He turns them around in a move that nearly knocks them both off their feet in a tumble, but then the dresser is pressing into her lower back and his hands hold tight at her waist, pausing there for a moment so she understands what he’s about to do, before picking her up and setting her down on the edge.  
  
A rush of wetness floods her core at the feeling of him lifting her so easily, like she weighs nothing at all.  
  
He wastes no time in stepping between her legs and sucking softly at her pulse point, running that nimble tongue down the side of her neck to her collarbone and dipping into the curve there.  
  
She takes in a hard gasp, clenching her thighs against his hips and trying to tug down his pants with her heels.  
  
She can almost feel him smirking into her skin at how ready she is and when he comes back up for a quick press of his lips to hers, he takes over the job himself. Pushes his pants down to his ankles and dips his fingers into her waistband, silently asking for permission to help her out of them and level the playing field.  
  
She answers with a lift of her hips so he can strip them off her legs in one smooth motion.  
  
She instantly feels shy the moment the cool air hits her skin and maybe he feels the same because when he moves in close to push himself against her it feels less like he’s seeking her out to find his goal and more like he’s simply covering them both. Giving them a chance to get used to being this naked in a way that won’t let anyone’s eyes linger.  
  
She can feel the hard length of him fitting snug against her, warm and throbbing but he doesn’t move to push into her yet. Doesn’t shove her legs wide apart and sink inside like she assumed he would, just waits there a second with his temple pressed to hers and his fingers working the buttons of her top.  
  
When it falls open she feels even more naked than before but the the warm wetness of his mouth on her nipple, softly wrapping around it and swirling is enough to make her forget a second later. Enough to have her arching into him and reaching for his shirt because turn about is fair play and she wants to feel him, wants to run her hands over his chest and taste his skin but he catches her by the wrist before she can get the first button undone, holding her loosely and shooting an almost terrified glance up to her eyes.  
  
“Leave it….please…leave it be.” His words are so low and embarrassed that she can hardly hear him.  
  
The shame in his expression makes her abandon her goal instantly. Doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable or chase away that heated spark she’d seen only a second ago. Runs her hands up his arms instead and gives him a nod and half smile, tracing her nails over the back of his neck and pulling him in again. Wets the seam of his lips with the tip of her tongue until he opens for her.  
  
They don't pause after that and she can feel him reaching down between them, running a finger over her in a delicate caress, more tender than she’s ever felt. She trembles under his touch, unsure of how to react because it feels better than it has any right to and she’s seconds away from coming right off the dresser and letting her hips chase his hand should he stop.  
  
He does stop though, but only for a moment and then something else is running lightly along her swollen flesh. Bigger and thicker and she doesn’t have to look down to realize that he’s gripping himself and moving the tip over her in gentle strokes. Dipping down toward her entrance and away again a few times before cautiously pushing forward.  
  
He tries to go slowly but she’s so slick that her body sucks him right in. He barely has to thrust more than twice before he’s buried inside of her far as he can go.  
  
She hadn’t expected him to fill her so quickly or so completely, but the spark of pain at the stretch hardly lasts long enough to bother her. All she can feel now is the way he’s moving into her in pulsing, deep thrusts, barely leaving her body at all.  
  
It feels slow and intimate. Something she hadn’t thought them capable of. Not now, when all this was supposed to be is a quick _'bang'_ during the apocalypse.  
  
He’s got both hands on her hips and his face nestled into the curve of her shoulder and all she can do is close her eyes and feel it. Let her head fall back against the wall and her legs open wider, the heels of her feet digging into the backs of his thighs to encourage him on.  
  
“Ya good? This ok?” He whispers into the space behind her ear, ragged and out of breath just from the effort of being this close.  
  
She nods, humming out a contented sound of agreement, her temple grazing his and her arms wrapping loosely around his neck.  
  
It’s better than good and she has no idea how to tell him that, or if she even should. How could she explain that this is the first time she’s felt a man inside of her and wanted more.  
  
She hitches her leg higher on his hip and hopes he gets the hint that they can take it up a notch or two and she won’t shatter, won’t break.  
  
The moment she moves, opening herself up to him a bit more and letting her leg hook high he growls into the skin of her neck, bracing one hand behind her against the wall and curving the other under her thigh for leverage, increasing his pace by double and knocking the air from her lungs in the best possible way.  
  
“Fuck, I can’t…I…ya close? Shit, I can’t…” He’s mumbling the words desperately into her shoulder, trying like hell to hold on so she can get there and that only makes her feel desperate too, because while this is better than she could have hoped for she’s not close yet and the idea of him getting there first and leaving her alone to suffer afterward sounds like torture.  
  
She doesn’t know what to say though, just grinds herself against him on every inward thrust, trying to reach that spot she needs him to find. The base of him brushes past it a few times, making her jerk and arch against him, searching for more but it’s not enough.  
  
He’s pushing into her so quickly that she’s certain it might hurt if she wasn’t already so damn wet, slicking the way for those long, deep stokes that shake the dresser.  
  
There’s no way the others can’t hear it clattering against the wall.  
  
Every time he fills her just a little deeper she get closer and closer, chasing that high she never thought she’d be able to catch.  
  
And then he gets there first. Shuddering and gasping and driving himself inside of her far as he can go before spilling his release there, warm and wet and far too soon.  
  
She sighs, a hint of a frown on her lips that she’s glad he can’t see. Holds him close with an arm slung around his neck and one gripping his hip, squeezing her muscles around his length to help him ride it out.  
  
She milks every last drop from him until his body is slack and motionless against her and the faint twitch deep inside of her slowly tapers off.  
  
Neither one of them says anything at first. They don’t move or attempt to break free of each other, and while she knows he came, can feel the evidence of that start to leak out between them, he’s not soft yet.  
  
It won’t last and she knows it but he still feels firm and thick and after he’s caught his breath he reaches down to where they’re joined and runs a finger over her. Searching for the place that makes her squirm.  
  
She hadn’t expected him to do this, thought he’d pull back and wander over to the bed. Maybe fall asleep and leave her to handle it herself if she wanted, but he surprises her yet again, trying to help her get there too even he’d been a little too quick himself.  
  
His hips start thrusting again, not daring to pull out more than an inch but the feeling of him moving and the pressure of his fingers rubbing soft circles at her most sensitive spot has that tension coiling in her abdomen even hotter than before.  
  
He nips gently at her lower lip, rasping his teeth there where she's plump and sensitive and sending her over the edge in an instant. She clenches around him like a vice while the spasms rock her frame and chase each other up her spine and back down again.  
  
The motion of his fingers or the rolling, deep pulse of his hips into hers never stops until the last tremor leaves her body.  
  
They linger for a long moment, his touch soothing over her in delicate but light strokes and the length of him growing soft inside of her until he pulls back a step, breaking the connection and making her feel instantly hollow and alone.  
  
She clenches her thighs together, accepting a few tissues that he magically produces from somewhere in his bag. Pulls her clothes back in place while he does the same and then it’s more awkward then it could have been before.  
  
The silence is nearly deafening and everything in her screams to leave. Tug her clothes tight around her and get the hell out of this room before the ground swallows her whole but when she turns to do just that his hand snakes out to grab her by the arm.  
  
It’s a move that would normally send her flinching away because this time he doesn’t let go, but his thumb waving over the fabric of her top is gentle instead of firm and she relaxes just a fraction.  
  
“Hey….I’ll be here.” He says softly, trying for a half smile that she can tell he’s working hard for. “If ya need anything. Even if ya don’t.”  
  
There’s something in his tone that makes her think he isn’t only talking about right now. That he’s trying to open a door and show her she can walk through it whenever she wants.  
  
She thinks maybe he wants to say something else because he opens his mouth for a moment, takes a deep breath like he’s working up to it but the words never escape and his hand drops from her arm a second later in defeat.  
  
She never expected this to turn into anything, still doesn’t, but she’s so used to being cast away. Pushed to the side and ignored as if she isn’t worth the air she’s breathing, _especially after sex_ , and the fact that he isn’t doing that chases off some of her quickly building doubts.  
  
He’s making an effort. It’s unpracticed and stumbled, but he’s trying and she only wishes she knew how to do the same for him.  
  
For all the wariness she has about what they’ve done she can see similar worries flickering in his own expression. The crease between his eyes and the way he chews on the inside of his lip, the hesitant way he looks at her as if she might crush his spirit on the spot, all tells her that he’s just as breakable as she is right now.  
  
The two of them could be a better match than she ever realized.  
  
She gives him a nod and a smile, letting some of her courage build back up and lift her onto her tip toes to place a soft kiss on his lips. Gentle and sweet and nothing more than a peck before she’s turning to leave again.  
  
This time he doesn’t stop her.  
  
  
  
  
  
The next day they’re on the road again and the CDC is nothing more than a pile of ashes in their wake.  
  
The watchful eye Daryl keeps on her and Sophia continues even more diligent than before, but her little girl still goes missing on that long stretch of road, disappearing into the woods like a ghost.  
  
It’s him that comforts her. Inches into the bed of the rv beside her after spending an entire day walking the woods, searching for the missing piece of her heart. He opens his arms and let’s her cry heavy tears into the fabric of his shirt until she’s run out of sobs.  
  
He tells her beautiful lies about how Sophia will be just fine and how they’ll find her the next morning without a scratch on her head.  
  
They both suspect it’s not true. They haven’t given up hope but every day that passes makes the reality of finding her alive again feel more slim and unattainable.  
  
She lets him try to soothe her though, thinks maybe he might get something out of it too because he sleeps soundly next to her, curling around her body and holding her close. Keeping all her ragged edges from falling apart during the night.  
  
  
  
  
  
Weeks later, when they abandon the farm for the unknown and spend most of the their time on the road, their habit of sleeping in the same bed carries over even into the woods. She scoots into his sleeping bag on nights he isn’t on watch and his chest warms her back by the campfire.  
  
The rise and fall of his breathing rhythmically lulls her to sleep.  
  
It isn’t until they’re gifted the privacy of a darkened but safe prison cell that they pick up where they left off in the CDC. Giving themselves over to something that felt so right even back then, when they were barely more than strangers.  
  
The strength of the bond they’ve formed since then makes the flame between them burn even brighter now.  
  
This time there’s no hesitation and no awkwardness. His hands on her skin feel like the most natural thing and the press of his lips feels like home.

 

 


End file.
